


A Dream, A Memory, A New Life

by forget_me_nots



Category: Violet Evergarden (Anime)
Genre: Gen, brief descriptions of being sick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-18
Updated: 2019-03-18
Packaged: 2019-11-23 20:56:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18156947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forget_me_nots/pseuds/forget_me_nots
Summary: In which Violet was still a child, for goodness sake, and is sick one night. Later, she remembers this.





	A Dream, A Memory, A New Life

**Author's Note:**

> I kinda always saw Gilbert as a father/older brother figure for Violet so that's kinda what I was going for in this fic. Also I wrote it at 2 in the morning so if there are mistakes that I missed, that's why. Why was I awake at 2 in the morning? Well, I also was sick, and while trying to go back to sleep, composed this, couldn't sleep, and wrote it down. That's probably why the POV is a little weird, too.

Gilbert was woken in the middle of the night by Violet. It was easy to forget she was a child, seeing her fight and kill and in a uniform just a little too big for her.

She looked especially small, now, in a large shirt that served as her nightclothes. Her hands were clutching something small, held to her chest the way a normal child might cling to a stuffed toy. _Her brooch,_ Gilbert realized sleepily. It made his heart ache. _She should have something better than a brooch to comfort herself with._

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“My stomach hurts,” she said.

It was easy to get sick, with nothing but military rations to eat, and surrounded by so many other people, living in close quarters. He always tried to make sure Violet ate well, but that didn’t mean she might accidentally eat something that had gone bad, even he was prone to that mistake. Even so, Gilbert was struck with the memories of his own childhood, creeping into his parents bedroom in the middle of the night, sick and seeking comfort. 

“Did you throw up?” Gilbert asked, sitting up.

Violet shook her head.

“Are you going to?”

“I think so,” she said faintly.

Gilbert got up, and hurried Violet out of his tent and towards the bathrooms. She walked unsteadily, and then suddenly stopped.

“My legs aren’t working.”

“Do you need me to carry you?” Gilbert asked. He knew it probably wasn’t very serious, but he felt as worried as if Violet were gravely ill.

She shook her head, and Gilbert walked back over to her, expression grim. He was just about to ask if she was alright when Violet’s legs gave out. She sat down at the side of the walkway, her legs folding like a foal’s. The hand not clutching at her brooch braced against the ground, and Gilbert could see her shaking. 

“Violet?” he asked worriedly.

He knelt beside her, and quickly pulled back her messy hair when she began to dry-heave.

In much the way children seemed to instantly get better after being sick, Violet stood up and walked over to the bathrooms, perfectly fine, once she finished. Gilbert waited patiently as she washed her hands and face, and then drank some water. 

“Feeling better?”

She nodded.

“You should get back to bed, you’ll want as much sleep as you can get.”

Violet followed Gilbert silently back to her tent. 

“I had a bad dream,” she said quietly. “Before I woke up from being sick.”

Gilbert smiled sadly, even though Violet couldn’t see. He, too, often had bad dreams when he was ill.

“Did it scare you?” he asked.

“I think so. I don’t want to go back to sleep. I don’t want it to happen again.”

How easy it was to forget she was only a child.

“Do you want me to stay with you?” 

“Yes.”

Gilbert pulled a chair over to sit by her cot as Violet curled up under her covers.

“What happened in your dream?” Gilbert asked. Whenever he had bad dreams, when he was younger, his parents would ask him about it, and talking about the dream would make it less scary. Perhaps the same would help Violet.

 _But she’s seen so many more horrible things than you at that age. She’s killed people. She’s seen people suffer and die. She's_ caused _people to suffer and die._

“I dreamt you were gone.”

Violet’s voice shook Gilbert from his thoughts.

“I dreamt you were gone, and no matter where I looked, I couldn’t find you. Everyone I asked didn’t know where you were.”

Her voice shook, but she didn’t look like she was going to cry. She looked scared and confused. It broke Gilbert’s heart.

“I won’t leave you, Violet. Don’t worry. I won’t leave you, I promise. I might have to spend time away from you, for the military, or in the hospital, but I’ll never leave you,” he said.

She seemed reassured, and closed her eyes, peaceful and finally able to sleep.

~~~

Violet woke up.

It was the middle of the night, rain drumming on her window. Her arms hurt, the parts that were still human flesh, as well as the parts that were no longer. The doctors had said that it would happen, sometimes, that she’d feel pain where there wasn’t anything left to feel it. Her wrists ached, and stabbing pain shot up her forearms.

With unsteady hands, she reached for her brooch on her desk.

It was dark, but even in the darkness it’s familiar green, the same as Gilbert’s eyes, was comforting.

_I dreamt you were gone, and no matter where I looked, I couldn’t find you. Everyone I asked didn’t know where you were._

Her own words suddenly came back to her, the memory of the night she’d had a nightmare and been sick, and how the Major had comforted her. He’d spent the night sitting next to her bed, even though he could have gone back to his own tent. He’d promised he’d never leave her. Perhaps that was why he stayed, in case she woke up again in the middle of the night, so he’d be there, there to reassure her that he wasn’t going to leave.

But he did leave her.

Her nightmare had come true. Dead or missing, Gilbert had left her, and no matter how she looked, she couldn’t find him-

She ran metal fingers over the emerald brooch.

No, that wasn’t true. He wasn’t completely gone. She had this, the brooch he had given to her. And she had his words, the last he had spoken to her. _From the bottom of my heart, I love you._

She hadn’t understood, in the moment, just as she hadn’t understood many things, but she did now. 

She clutched the brooch to her chest.

Even if she understood his words, and even though she had the brooch, they still made a poor substitute. She wished Gilbert was only a short walk away, close enough she could get up and seek his comfort in the middle of the night if she was scared or sick. She wished she had her arms, so she could actually feel things.

But some things, like her arms, and Gilbert, were lost to her. She could only live and make the best of what she had.

It’s what Gilbert would have wanted her to do.


End file.
